But old folks, many feign as they were dead;
Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. Enter Nurse and Peter.
O God, she comes. O honey Nurse, what news?
Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.
NURSE.
Peter, stay at the gate. [_Exit Peter._]
JULIET.
Now, good sweet Nurse,—O Lord, why look’st thou sad?
Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
If good, thou sham’st the music of sweet news
By playing it to me with so sour a face.
NURSE.
I am aweary, give me leave awhile;
Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had!
JULIET.
I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:
Nay come, I pray thee speak; good, good Nurse, speak.
NURSE.
Jesu, what haste? Can you not stay a while? Do you not see that I am
out of breath?
JULIET.
How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath
To say to me that thou art out of breath?
The excuse that thou dost make in this delay
Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.
Is thy news good or bad? Answer to that;
Say either, and I’ll stay the circumstance.
Let me be satisfied, is’t good or bad?
NURSE.
Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to choose a man.
Romeo? No, not he. Though his face be better than any man’s, yet his
leg excels all men’s, and for a hand and a foot, and a body, though
they be not to be talked on, yet they are past compare. He is not the
flower of courtesy, but I’ll warrant him as gentle as a lamb. Go thy
ways, wench, serve God. What, have you dined at home?
JULIET.
No, no. But all this did I know before.
What says he of our marriage? What of that?
NURSE.
Lord, how my head aches! What a head have I!

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